


Altostratus

by tcheschire



Series: Crescent Moon [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, M/M, Nonbinary Spirit, Ryou is male but the Spirit Identifies as an Omen, Sickfic, Stuck in the Rain, Though You'd Hardly Notice It, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:41:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23608516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tcheschire/pseuds/tcheschire
Summary: Honda does what any good friend would do if his friend were ill: venture out into a downpour to fetch said friend's possessed body and ensure that it gets proper care.
Relationships: Morishipping, Yami Bakura/Honda Hiroto | Tristan Taylor
Series: Crescent Moon [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676047
Kudos: 6





	Altostratus

**Author's Note:**

> I literally have no excuse, except that I thought this as an immediate follow-up to the other piece would be exceptionally cute.

He knew his friends wouldn’t have pegged him as the type, but rainy days were the kinds of days that Honda preferred most. For practical reasons, it allowed him to stay inside and study or build or even just play video games, but if he were feeling particularly romantic, it allowed him the chance to sit on his windowsill with a book and read, or simply to stare out into the city among the haze. Honda didn’t necessarily keep it under wraps, but he supposed he didn’t advertise it much either – if anything, he had the reputation as the stable one, the dependable one, not the one with his head in the clouds.  
  
As it happened, it was coming down that afternoon, a veritable downpour, and Honda had his nose in a book. Not in the window nook he had constructed for himself, but at his kitchen table, a steaming mug at his elbow.  
  
There was a stillness that he appreciated to these kinds of days, especially with consideration to the rest of his life. He enjoyed a bit of action as much as any red-blooded man, but sometimes he just wanted it to be okay for things to settle.  
  
And so, with the rain splattering his window and no signs of life on the street below (and had not been for some time), when the phone rang, Honda jumped. He simply couldn’t help it, being so used to being _prepared_ at the drop of a hat – knowing this did nothing to ease the sense of embarrassment he attempted to laugh off as he rose to answer.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Honda!” Anzu chirped from the other end. “Hey, you live close to Bakura, right?”  
  
Honda cradled the phone to his ear, setting the kettle on to boil again. “I mean, I guess comparatively I’m closer to him than you guys, but his condo is still a ways away. Why, what’s up?”  
  
“Well,” Anzu said, “Last I talked to him, he thought he was coming down with something, and I wanted to take him some things – some soup, medicine, I got him this herb packet from a shop that I think he likes, but – “  
  
Honda had known what was coming from the start – Anzu couldn’t mask her intentions for the world, and today was no exception. He sighed. “But it’s raining and you don’t want to have to walk so you figured you’d call the only person with transportation to deliver it.”  
  
Brightly and completely unabashed, Anzu’s smile radiated through the phone. “You’re just such a good friend, and I thought you’d want to get in on this, too.”  
  
“Anzu, you know it isn’t exactly great to ride a motorcycle out in the rain."  
  
“Which is why it’s perfect that you’re so much closer to him than the rest of us.”  
  
Honda groaned. The trip would take less time if he went, even taking into consideration lower speeds and the circuit he would have to make to get to Anzu’s apartment and then to Bakura’s condo, and he knew Anzu knew that as well as he did. There really wasn’t much point delaying what they both knew what would happen. “All right, I’ll swing by to pick the stuff up, then drop it off at his place.”  
  
Anzu thanked him, needlessly chipper, before hanging up. She thanked him again when she dropped the parcel into his arms, flashing him the v-sign and her brightest smile. She was so earnest in her concern for their friend that he couldn’t be upset with her for asking him to play delivery boy.  
  
At least, until he reached the condo and found himself knocking on a door uselessly. If it had been anyone else’s place, there would have been a set alternate route inside: he could easily jimmy Jounouchi’s lock, Anzu kept a hide-a-key underneath a potted plant, and he could simply have walked into Yuugi’s game shop. But Bakura was different, more private.  
  
Sighing, Honda checked his phone – at the first sign of non-response, he had texted Bakura, then Anzu to ask if she had gotten ahold of him, and to no avail. Anzu’s “ _Maybe he’s sleeping?_ ” was significantly less helpful than she seemed to think it was, and he certainly wasn’t just going to leave the parcel outside when he had come all this way.  
  
Going around to a side window and peering inside the curtains told him that no one was home – which was odd, considering the reason he was here at all was because Bakura was sick. Another sigh.  
  
This is exactly the kind of thing he wanted to avoid, and it was exactly the kind of thing that he would do anyway, he grumbled to himself as he tucked the parcel back into his saddlebags and slipped the helmet back on.  
  
He did not, as it turned out, have to travel far. He rode once down the main road, and then circled around the backway before he saw his friend seated in the grass, red in the face and panting.  
  
He pulled up beside the curb and engaged the kickstand, tugging the helmet off. “Bakura? What are you doing out in the rain, man? Anzu said you were sick and – Oh.”  
  
Sharp red eyes cut him off midsentence, and his guard instantly raised. The spirit said nothing, still gulping down air desperately, as though it had run several miles in Ryou’s body.  
  
Honda instantly felt drenched in the dread that normally gripped him when those eyes landed on him, no different than the last time he had seen the spirit. This time, however, a heat rose in his chest, and he spat out, “What is wrong with you?” before he could quite help himself.  
  
A fine white brow raised. “I beg your pardon?” The voice lacked its usual malice, its usual dripping murderous intent – instead, it merely sounded flummoxed, and tired.  
  
The reaction strengthened Honda’s resolve, and he knelt in front of the sitting body of his friend, glowering forcefully into the dully glittering eyes. “Dude, Bakura is sick, and you’ve got him out here in this? What the hell is your problem right now? Like, if he’s sick, and you make it worse, doesn’t that make things worse for you?”  
  
The spirit gave a delicate snort and began to struggle to stand, stumbling weakly back into its seat and pushing sopping wet bangs from Bakura’s face with a weak hand. “You misunderstand. I didn’t drag _yadonushi_ out into the rain – it’s the opposite.”  
  
“What?” Why would Bakura want to have his body out in the rain if he were sick? “That doesn’t make sense.”  
  
A corner of the scarlet lips raised wryly, and Honda saw the barest glimmer of fangs. “Doesn’t it?” Sluggishly, a hand raised to reveal a convenience store bag, and a quick look inside revealed cold medicine. “He calls it _paying rent_ , the cheeky little shit.”  
  
Honda buried his face into a hand. “You’ve got to be joking me,” he muttered against the leather of his glove. Raising his head, he stood, he propped a hand on his hip in a brief moment of thought.  
  
This seemed to amuse the spirit terribly. “What’s this? Going to leave a dear friend in the rain?” it purred.  
  
An incredulous scowl creased Honda’s features. “Man, shut up.” He reached his hand down and took hold of Bakura’s slender one, tugging until the spirit was swaying on weak legs before he turned and pulled the spirit forward solidly against his back. “Come on, I’ve got you. Let’s get you back.”  
  
Even through his jacket, he could feel Bakura’s fever. However, this did not seem to stop the spirit from biting out a snide comment; “Oh, my knight in shining armor. Whatever would I have done without you?”  
  
Depositing the spirit gently on the back of the bike, Honda fitted the helmet snugly over the dripping white hair before getting on himself. “What’s that?” he said, patting the top of the helmet affectionately. “Can’t hear you through the helmet. Don’t worry, buddy, we’ll get you home safe.”  
  
When they finally did return to Bakura’s condo, the spirit slumped against him heavily – it seemed that the journey had taken more out of Bakura’s body than the spirit was willing to admit, but there was no mistaking it. Even the fight it put up when Honda reached into Bakura’s pocket for the keys was token at best  
  
Still carrying his friend’s body on his back, Honda toed off his boots at the entrance awkwardly, hefting Bakura’s weight more evenly as he looked about the condo. “I’m not sure which room is the bedroom –  
  
“The couch is sufficient.”  
  
Shifting his head to glance over his shoulder, Honda cocked a brow. “You sure? Might be more comfortable – “  
  
“The couch.” Though quiet, the tone was firm enough that Honda merely shrugged, depositing the spirit onto the couch as requested.  
  
When the spirit tried to rise, Honda placed a hand on the shoulder. “I don’t think so. Nothing you can do to stop me grabbing some towels and a blanket for you.”  
  
The air crackled with malintent, and the familiar shape of the Ring glowed dimly underneath the sopping pullover. “There is plenty that I could do,” the spirit snarled.  
  
Honda waved off the threat – as drenched as Bakura’s body currently was, and as weak as the voice that came out of it was, it didn’t hit in quite the same way. “And then you’ll still drip everywhere, and you’ll still be sick. Deal with it for two minutes.”  
  
Longer than two minutes later, Honda returned with towels and blankets, as promised, but also a soft pair of cotton pajamas and a hair dryer. There was a brief struggle in convincing the spirit to change clothes, but when Honda turned his back to fetch the care package that Anzu had sent along, he returned to discover that the spirit had changed, dried, and made itself comfortable in a veritable cocoon of warmth on the couch.  
  
Honda couldn’t help but smile. “See? Wasn’t so hard.”  
  
There came a soft grunt from underneath the blanket, and the spirit poked its head out – the sparkle had returned to its eyes, and Honda found himself momentarily dazzled. “Do not mistake me, I could – “  
  
“Rend the flesh from my bones, yeah, I get it. Are you hungry? Do you get hungry? Anzu said she made soup.”  
  
The eyes flashed at him. “I haven’t fed properly in weeks.”  
  
“If it helps, I think Anzu’s been using bone broth lately.”  
  
“It does not. Perhaps I should simply feed on you.” Through the sniffling and the nasal intonation, the threat held no bite.  
  
In spite of himself, a grin made its way across Honda’s lips. “Sorry, think you’re gonna have to make do with the soup.” He held the container aloft in one hand. “It’s chicken noodle,” he added helpfully. “I’m gonna go put this in the microwave; that’ll give you time to decide that you’re gonna eat it anyway.”  
  
He heard a soft snort behind him. “Fine,” came the grunt of acquiescence. “Put it in the blue earthenware bowl.”  
  
Honda threw the one-two combo of a thumbs up and his most charming grin over his shoulder. “You got it.”  
  
By the time he returned from the kitchen, he heard gentle snuffles from underneath the blanket. Putting the soup back into the container and placing it in the fridge, Honda took a moment to gather the soaking wet clothing and deposit into the hamper in the bathroom and rinse out the blue earthenware bowl, setting the cold medicine on the coffee table before he let himself out.


End file.
